


paper rings

by thekardemomme



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, theyre in love your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27953645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: When Sander’s nose twitches, causing him to make this soft little whimpering sound, Robbe can’t help himself. He leans forward enough to kiss Sander’s forehead again, and then he dots one on each cheek, and then finally on his nose.“I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers.
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 27
Kudos: 161





	paper rings

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: the depictions of mental illness are based entirely off of my own and may not be entirely accurate to everyone’s experience !!!
> 
> yes this is based on paper rings by taylor swift bc it’s eerily accurate to robbe and sander
> 
> i like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings  
> darling, you're the one i want, and  
> i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this
> 
> in the winter, in the icy outdoor pool  
> when you jumped in first, i went in too  
> i’m with you even if it makes me blue

It’s sobering, sometimes, when Sander has bad days. He’s gotten a lot better about taking his medicine and going to therapy, and the time between episodes keeps getting longer and longer… It ends up being a shock, sometimes, when Sander can’t get out of bed in the morning. It brings Robbe crashing back down to reality. 

He’s been down for almost a week now, and Robbe has only ever left his side when Sander asked him to or when he absolutely  _ has to  _ go home and see his mama. Every other moment he spends in Sander’s room—sometimes not even next to him, but somewhere near him, just so Sander knows he’s there. Even if they’re across the room from each other. 

It came out of nowhere this time. 

But then again, it seems like it always does. 

Overall, he’s been doing better. He ate breakfast and dinner the day before, and today so far he ate all of breakfast and some of lunch. He also let Robbe take him for a shower, and he’s spoken a lot more than he has been recently. It's an improvement, and Robbe always celebrates the improvements. Even if Sander doesn’t think that it’s worth it. 

Today, Sander’s biggest mental battle seems to be his insecurity. Robbe secretly hates these days the most, because it breaks his heart to hear Sander talking about not deserving Robbe. Or not deserving love in general. 

They’re laying side by side in Sander’s bed, Sander tucked under the blankets and Robbe on top of them, facing each other. Every now and again Robbe reaches out to play with Sander’s hair, but Sander doesn’t always like to be touched when he’s down—a bit of an adjustment since they’re usually so tactile, especially considering Sander’s love language is touch—so Robbe tries to be cognizant of when his touch becomes too much. 

Sander’s been sleeping a lot, but today, right now, he’s awake and blinking at Robbe blearily. It breaks Robbe’s heart to see him like this, though he tries not to let it show. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Sander croaks out. 

Robbe freezes his fingers where they’ve been twisting Sander’s hair. “Do you want me to go for a bit?”

Sander licks his lips, and shakes his head slowly. Very slowly. “You shouldn’t have to be here,” he revises, and Robbe frowns. “I’m sorry you have to babysit me.”

“I’m not babysitting you. I’m just laying here with you, which I would be doing anyway. Or don’t you like hanging out with me?” 

The gentle teasing pulls a soft smile from Sander, but it’s gone as soon as it showed. “I’m sorry,” he says next, despite Robbe’s efforts to shush him. “I never wanted you to see me like this.”

“I always want to see you. I don’t care what state you’re in, as long as it’s you.” Robbe brushes his hair back again, and scratches at his scalp the way he knows Sander loves. “I love you, Sander. Don’t forget that. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“You’ll see eventually,” Sander murmurs. “It’s going to get too much, or  _ I’m  _ going to get too much. Or I’ll hurt you again. And then you’ll leave, and I won’t even blame you, because I would leave too. I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep you for this long, I—”

Robbe makes the executive decision to interrupt him as he starts rambling, because when Sander starts to spiral, it can be really hard to pull him out of it if he gets too far. “Hey, hey, hey,” Robbe interrupts, moving his hand from Sander’s hair to his chin, lifting it gently (but effectively) to keep him from speaking. “I’m not going to leave you. We’re getting married, remember? You promised me a balcony, a white limo Tesla…”

A part of Robbe—a big, hopeful part—had optimistically thought that teasing would make Sander smile again, the way it makes Robbe smile whenever he thinks about it. But Sander’s frown just deepens, and Robbe comes to the horrifying realization that bringing up Sander’s manic episode probably wasn’t the  _ best _ thing to do. He panics instantly, reaching for Sander’s hand. 

But before he can apologize for his  _ stupid  _ joke, Sander speaks again. 

“You’re not going to marry me, Robbe. You don’t…  _ I  _ don’t want that for you. I know you don’t believe me, but it will get too much, and I will hurt you again, and… You deserve so much better. You deserve someone who doesn’t have ‘bad days’, someone who can get out of bed, someone who didn’t cheat with  _ and  _ on you, someone who doesn’t— Someone who’s  _ normal.  _ You need to marry someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved, and I want to be that person so badly, but I—”

“Am the best, most caring, most loving fucking boyfriend Robbe could’ve ever hoped for,” Robbe finishes for him. “I’m going to marry you, Sander. You are everything I deserve and more, you love me so much better than anybody else could ever love me, and you’re  _ normal.  _ Normal is subjective, and this is your normal. I fell in love with this Sander, and that’s never going to change.”

“But—”

Robbe slides his hand from Sander’s chin to his mouth, covering it completely. “No. No buts. I love you and I’m going to love you forever, and not even your worst bad day can change that. I’m telling you, I don’t want to change anything about you. I don’t wish you weren’t bipolar.” He cringes then, when Sander gives him a confused look, but forces himself to push through. “Not like that. I just mean… I mean that I fell in love with you, every part of you, including the parts of you that you don’t love and that you wish you could change. I only ever wish it would go away for your sake, because it hurts you and I hate that. But not for my sake. I love everything about you, including the fact that you’re bipolar, and that will never be a dealbreaker for me. Ever.”

Sander’s eyes are swimming by the time he’s done, glistening with tears, and for a long second Robbe thinks he’s fucked up and stuck his foot in his mouth.  _ Again.  _ Robbe isn’t always the best at saying comforting things without wording something weirdly or just flat out saying something  _ wrong.  _ He tries, he really does, he’s doing his best to learn how to put his thoughts into words without making Sander feel pitied, belittled, patronized, or anything like that. He tries really hard. 

But then Sander is leaning forward and touching their foreheads together, his hand coming up to touch Robbe’s cheek, and he figures he must’ve said something right. 

Robbe asks, “Can I kiss you?” Because it’s always important to ask, but especially when Sander isn’t feeling his best. 

Sander nods—as he usually does—and Robbe leans in immediately. It was hard, at first, getting this part right. But now Robbe knows how to lean in enough to make his intentions known, because they would nearly never kiss on bad days if it was up to Sander to initiate, but also how to hold back enough that it’s up to Sander to lean forward enough to finally seal their lips together. So Sander feels in control. So Sander knows he can change his mind if he wants. 

He doesn’t change his mind today. He seals their lips together and Robbe instantly sighs into it, a content sign as if he’s just come home after a long day. It feels a bit like that, really. Kissing Sander, that is. Like coming home after a long day, or sitting down after a difficult hike, or getting that first sip of ice cold water after a marathon. 

Robbe wants to feel like this forever. 

The kiss doesn’t go deep, doesn’t involve any tongue (which is probably for the best, because Robbe can’t be sure when Sander last brushed his teeth), but the simple chaste pecks are more than enough. Robbe almost prefers them, because they never have an end destination, they’re not a precursor for something more. They’re just kisses for the sake of kisses. 

Sander finally pulls away after the fifteenth kiss, pressing his face back into his pillow. Robbe follows his lead and does the same. Then, he gently returns his hand to Sander’s hair, and scratches along his scalp. It doesn’t take long for Sander’s eyes to close. 

“I love you,” Robbe says again. No matter how many times he says it, it just never feels like enough. “And I’m not going anywhere. You and me, 100%, in all universes. You’re stuck with me until you get sick of me.”

Part of him had assumed Sander would fall asleep fairly quickly, so he’s decently surprised when Sander’s eyes pop back open. “Don’t say that,” Sander mumbles, speech slurred from exhaustion and eyelids clearly heavy. “I will never want you to leave.”

Robbe’s heart warms. “Good. Then it’s you and me, forever.” He presses a gentle kiss to Sander’s forehead and then lays back down, resuming his soft touches as Sander closes his eyes again. 

It doesn’t take Sander long to fall asleep, after that. It never does. Robbe lays there petting his hair until he can feel his own eyes getting heavy, and he knows he should probably use this time to clean Sander’s room or do some laundry or even cook dinner for them, but the other part of him really wants to just sleep with Sander. To lay here with Sander in his arms, uninterrupted. 

Ultimately, he decides on the latter. He takes off his pants and throws them aside, then lifts the covers to join Sander underneath them. He doesn’t cuddle Sander as he normally would, instead just reaches out and puts one hand over top of one of Sander’s. Just a light touch, so Sander will know he’s there, even in his sleep. 

Sander’s cute when he sleeps, Robbe notes as he lays on his side, just staring at Sander’s face. It should feel creepy, but Robbe isn’t really bothered. All he can focus on is the barely noticeable rise and fall of Sander’s chest, the subtly audible sound of his breathing, the way his brows furrowed as he dreams. Robbe likes when Sander sleeps, because it usually gives him a break from his own mind on days like this. It’s the only time that Robbe sees him at peace, until he feels better. 

When Sander’s nose twitches, causing him to make this soft little whimpering sound, Robbe can’t help himself. He leans forward enough to kiss Sander’s forehead again, and then he dots one on each cheek, and then finally on his nose. 

“I can’t wait to marry you,” he whispers, and it feels more intimate now because… Well, because he’s not saying it where Sander can hear, and that’s proof in and of itself that he means it. 

Not that he ever had any doubt. He’s been Sander’s ever since the first time they met, ever since Sander spun him around and knocked him into displays at the supermarket. Robbe knew he would never belong to anybody else again. 

How lucky is he?

One more kiss to Sander’s nose and then Robbe goes back to his own pillow. He closes his eyes and lets sleep take him, too. 

**

When Robbe wakes up again, it’s two hours later and the sun is starting to go down. 

At first, Robbe wakes up slowly, stretches all of his limbs until his joints pop. But then he starfishes out on the bed and doesn’t hit any warm limbs, and the reality crashes in like a forty ton weight—Sander isn’t in bed. 

Robbe sits up in a blind panic, looking all over the room for any sign of Sander. He notices that Sander’s Docs are gone, along with his coat and his phone. Robbe grabs his own phone from the side table, clicking it on and squinting against the harsh light to read the notification. 

**Sander (7:12pm):** _ Went for a walk, I’ll be back in half an hour. Love you  _

He reads the text five times at least before he collapses back on the bed, groaning as relief floods his veins.  _ Sander’s okay.  _

Ever since quarantine, Sander’s started going on walks. He figured out really quickly that it gave him quiet time and fresh air enough to collect his own thoughts. It’s like an outlet, his walks. Something to calm him down when he feels like he’s starting to crawl out of his own skin. 

Robbe texts him a quick heart and then sits back up, surveying the room. It’s a disaster. An absolute disaster. Robbe’s heard of depression rooms on social media before, has even thought he had one at times, but this is another level. 

So, Robbe decides to clean. He knows that coming home to a clean bedroom always makes him feel better, so he hopes it works for Sander, too. He sets to work on picking up laundry and throwing away trash, and then putting away everything else. Most of it goes really smoothly, because Robbe is over often enough to know where most things go, but he starts to get a little bit lost when he gets to the art supplies that are scattered across Sander’s desk. 

But he makes do, and before he knows it, the room is tidy. Not  _ clean, _ but tidy. Enough that it’ll hopefully take a weight off of Sander’s shoulders when he gets back. 

After he finishes cleaning, topped off with running a vacuum over the carpet, he decides to change the sheets on the bed. Fresh sheets can make a world of difference. 

So he sets to work on stripping the bed. He pulls off the sheet and the pillowcases, and then the duvet cover for good measure. He puts them all in a pile in the corner of the room, and then puts fresh sheets on. He won’t be able to replace the duvet cover until after it’s washed, but he’s sure that the duvet will suffice if Sander comes back and wants a nap. 

He runs into Sander’s mom in the kitchen, and she helps him get the sheets into the washing machine. He tells her where Sander’s gone, and then takes her up on her offer of tea. 

For a few minutes, while she makes the tea, they talk about nothing. About Robbe’s school, Sander’s school, Robbe’s mom, a TV show they’ve both been watching. And then it fizzles out, and they talk about Sander again. It’s hard not to talk about Sander with his parents when it’s like this. 

“You’re good for him, you know,” she murmurs, as she slides the cup of tea over to him. “I know you’ve been with him long enough to know that by now, and I’ve told you before. But you are. He’s different with you,  _ better.  _ I don’t know how to thank you for…”

Robbe shakes his head, “There’s nothing to thank me for. I love him. I’d do anything for him, because I love him. That’s all there is to it.”

Sander’s mom nods, a small smile across her face. “Well. He loves you, too. More than I think you realize.” She brings her cup of tea to her lips, taking a small sip. Her purple lipstick leaves a stain on the rim of the cup, and she gently smudges it with her thumb. “Were you planning on staying for dinner? I’m making  _ waterzooi.” _

“I’d love to,” Robbe grins, and she smiles in return. “As long as Sander wants me to, of course.”

“Oh, I’m sure he—”

“Sander wants you to what?” The low voice catches their attention, and they both glance over to the entrance where Sander is leaning against the wall. 

Robbe smiles at the sight of him, standing up straight and reaching out to offer him a sip of his tea. Sander takes it, pressing his side against Robbe’s until Robbe wraps an arm around his waist. 

His mom explains, “I was just inviting Robbe to stay for dinner tonight. I’m making  _ waterzooi,  _ you love that.”

Sander nods. “I want you to,” he tells Robbe, and Robbe smiles brightly. “Can we go lay down?”

“Yeah, of course,” Robbe murmurs, accepting the tea back from Sander. He smiles at Sander’s mom in thanks as she takes the cup to put in the sink, and then gently leads Sander back to his room. 

If Sander notices how Robbe’s cleaned up, he doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t bother Robbe as much as it used to. He knows Sander appreciates it, he’s just too tired to say it, and that’s okay. Robbe doesn’t do it so Sander will thank him. He does it because he wants to. He wants to make things easier for Sander, in any way he can. 

He’s realized, over his time with Sander, that he’s  _ not  _ as helpless as he thought. He can help Sander, even if it doesn’t immediately seem like he’s helping, or if Sander doesn’t seem to appreciate it. Sometimes, just being with him helps. Robbe is always more than happy to do anything to help him. 

Slowly, Sander starts taking off his clothes. Robbe takes the time to hang up his jacket and put away his shoes for him, because he’s sure Sander’s tired and he doesn’t want them to just be left in the middle of the floor. 

Sander stops once he’s down to his t-shirt and sweats, turning back to face Robbe. Robbe smiles at him, reaching out to gently cup his cheek. 

“Do you want to cuddle, watch a movie until dinner?” He offers, smoothing his thumb over Sander’s temple. “Your duvet cover is in the wash, I’ll put it back on before bed.”

“Are you sleeping over?”

“Do you want me to?”

Sander nods, “Yes.”

“Then yes,” Robbe murmurs. “So. Cuddles and a movie?”

“Yeah, but…” Sander hesitates, shifting on the balls of his feet, and Robbe’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and slight concern. Honestly, Robbe is a little surprised he still has the energy to stand up. Usually, his walks take a lot out of him. “Um. I got you something. On my walk.”

_ Oh.  _ Robbe’s heart instantly warms. “You did?” He asks gently, and Sander nods again. “That’s sweet of you, Sander. Thank you.” He slides his hand down from Sander’s cheek, and lets it rest by his side. “What is it?”

Sander blushes, just a little. He shoves his hand into his pocket, keeps it there for a minute, and then hastily pulls it out. He opens his palm to show Robbe, and Robbe is more than a little confused when he sees a freshly picked dandelion laying there, only slightly squished from being in his pocket. 

Robbe looks up at him curiously, his eyes asking the question he doesn’t want to break the silence by asking. 

Thankfully, Sander understands him. Sander  _ always  _ understands him. “It was growing between the cracks of the concrete outside of the Academie,” he explains, and Robbe raises his eyebrows. He hadn’t realized that Sander had gone as far as school. “At first, I thought it was pretty, like you.”

That makes Robbe blush. It isn’t hard to make him blush, Sander does it with extreme ease—he calls him pretty, beautiful, stunning, gorgeous… So many things, it’s like he has an overflowing fountain of compliments that just never runs dry. 

“But, um. Then I started thinking about what we talked about before we fell asleep. About how it’s you and me forever, and how… How you want to marry me one day. And I realized I made it sound like maybe— Like maybe I didn’t want to marry you. And that’s not true, Robbe. I want to marry you more than anything, give you the white limo Tesla and the first dance and, of course, the honeymoon.” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice alongside a soft smirk on his face, and it feels like a breath of fresh air to see Sander coming into himself again. 

Robbe rolls his eyes, forces himself to go along with the teasing. Anything to make Sander smile, to keep this good mood going. “So you’re telling me you’re only in it for the honeymoon,” he jokes. 

“It certainly is a plus,” Sander acknowledges at a total deadpan, and Robbe giggles. “But. I do want to marry you, and spend my entire life with you. Well, really, spend  _ forever  _ with you, because dying is fucking lame and not something that either of us will be taking part in.”

“Oh, of course.”

Sander nods, “Exactly.” Then he smiles again, and glances back down at the dandelion. “Anyway. Give me your hand.”

Confused, Robbe holds up his right hand. But that makes Sander roll his eyes, and he knocks it away, picking up Robbe’s left hand instead. Robbe watches as Sander takes the dandelion and wraps it around his ring finger, looping the stem around and around until it’s tight, and then he knots it below his finger. The flower—bright yellow in the middle, but soft and brown on the edges from rubbing on Sander’s pocket—sits on top of his finger, like a ring. A beautiful ring. 

Robbe admires the flower ring for a second, before looking up to Sander for a further explanation. 

He finds that Sander is already looking at him. 

“I’m going to give you a real ring one day,” Sander promises. “An engagement ring when we’re old enough. A promise ring sooner, when I have the money. A wedding band, of course. But. Since I don’t have the money for a promise ring yet and it’s too soon for the other stuff, I thought maybe this would be enough for now. I wanted you to know that I love you, and I’m in it, too.” He bites his lip, then, and offers a shrug. “You and me, 100%, for always.”

It’s become their thing, now. That phrase. 

Robbe loves it. Never gets tired of hearing it. Never gets tired of saying it, more so. 

“Sander…” His voice is shaky and coated with tears, and it’s a wonder he didn’t start crying the second Sander started wrapping that dandelion around his finger. 

“I know it’s not a real ring,” Sander rushes to continue, “I just—”

Robbe doesn’t let him explain it again. He rushes forward and crashes their lips together, so hard that he makes Sander—weak and shaky already from the walk and exhaustion—stumble backwards. They barely catch themselves before they fall onto the bed, and Robbe wraps his arms around Sander’s neck at the same time Sander’s go around his waist. 

They kiss until they can’t anymore, until they’re breathing into each other’s mouths more than kissing. Robbe pulls back enough to rest their foreheads together, and he puts his left hand over the top of Sander’s heart. 

“I love you,” he tells Sander. “Thank you.”

“Baby.” Sander doesn’t say more than that, just leans in for more kisses, until his knees give out and they lower onto the bed. 

Robbe helps him under the blankets, and holds him tight to his chest, whispers sweet nothings until Sander dozes off again. He can smell Sander’s mom’s cooking and he thinks maybe he should offer his help, and he’s sure the washing machine is almost (if not already) done, and he should probably go make sure that Sander’s art supplies are organized properly. 

But he doesn’t do any of that. He just holds Sander tighter to his side, and stares at the dandelion on his finger. 

The flower will wilt in a day or two, turn brown and wither away until it’s nothing but a shell of the pretty bright flower that it is now. And yet it’s the most precious piece of jewelry he’s ever worn, and he wants to keep it forever. 

He can’t, and he knows that. But it’s okay. He’ll just have to keep Sander forever instead. 

**Author's Note:**

> caroline write a fic that isn’t hurt/comfort challenge
> 
> find me on tumblr @wlwharrys and on twitter @starsamidala


End file.
